


Handle with Care

by kiarii, onlyhereforfood



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Puns, Cooking, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Frisk And Reader Are Related, Gaming, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Lazy Mornings, Librarbian also has a nickname, M/M, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PTSD, Papyrus Being Papyrus, Papyrus Knows More Than He Lets On, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sans, Puns & Word Play, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader Needs a Hug, Reader-Insert, Sans Makes Puns, Sans Needs A Hug, Sans Remembers Resets, Sleepy Cuddles, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Snowdin Shop/Innkeeper bunny twins have nicknames, Soulmate AU, Swearing, Tags May Change, Undertale Pacifist Route, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, maybe I dunno, most likely
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-20 02:37:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14251263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiarii/pseuds/kiarii, https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyhereforfood/pseuds/onlyhereforfood
Summary: Sans hasn’t had an easy life:Experiencing a living hell? ✓Reliving it over and over again? ✓His little brother and many others murdered on the spot by a relentless killer? ...✓The kid has fallen into the Underground countless times, but this timeline makes a sudden turn of events. Another human shows up—the kid’s sister.





	1. A Whole New World

**Author's Note:**

> This story may contain graphic and/or mature content. Read at your own risk.
> 
> ••••
> 
> Heavily inspired by “When Two Souls Meet” and “When Two Fates Intertwine” by Zana B. Sparrows.

**Prologue**

**________________**

 

Birds lay dormant in their nests as Frisk hops along the forest path, giving little to no cares about how you felt about this trip—and quite a literal trip it was. You groggily follow behind your little sister, wondering why she had brought you out for a hike this early in the morning. Your dream was just about to get to the good part, and then she took that away from you.

 

_Wait, what was I dreaming about again?_

 

. . .

 

_Tch. Stupid amnesia. Whatever. Not like it mattered, anyway._

 

Frisk turns around, hands cupped on either side of her mouth. “Come on, sis!! You’re such a _slowpoke_ — Hurry up!” she calls over to you and stops in her path a few meters away, waiting for you to catch up. “Why did you even wake me up this early to go _hiking?_ ” you retort, shooting her an accusing glare. She shrugs, smiling at you innocently, “Just come on!” She rushes towards you and grips your wrist, dragging you along. You falter a bit at the sudden movement but regain your balance soon after.

 

You take a minute to bask in the beauty of Mount Ebott’s landscape. The sun is starting to rise, its breathtaking colors swirling together perfectly.  The vegetation is lush, its autumn colors clear to the eye. The leaves of the trees sway with the occasional breeze—the birds beginning to sing their greetings… and maybe some mating calls.

 

Frisk gasps and stops abruptly, catching you off guard.

 

“What’s wrong? Why did y—”

 

You look down, eyes wide and jaw dropped.

 

. . .

 

There’s a large hole in the ground, its mouth gaping wide open as if it were a child ready to be spoon fed. Just a week ago you were strolling here. Of all the times you’ve walked this path, you’ve never seen any signs of _this_.

 

. . .

 

On second thought, you might’ve been captivated by the forest’s elegance at the time. God damn your curiosity.

 

“Let’s jump!” Frisk squeaked gleefully, apparently not even considering the consequences.

 

_What the hell?_

 

“What? Are you _crazy?!_ We’ll die if we jump—I can’t even see the bottom!” you stare at Frisk, contemplating why she would say anything like that. She smirks, sensing your inner turmoil. “What do we have to lose?”

 

Before you could reply, she jumps, taking you down with her.

 

...And thus, your journey begins.

 

_________________________________

**Chapter 1:**

**A Whole New World**

**_______________**

 

“Come on, sis—wake up! This isn’t funny!” Frisk cries, shaking you violently.

Your eyes snap open in response to your sister’s pained voice. “Oh thank god… You nearly gave me a heart attack!” She places a hand on her chest in effort to steady her breathing. You prop yourself up from the golden flower bed.

 

_Wait, flowers?! Down here? How are they even viable?_

 

To your left, you notice a teary-eyed Frisk—her ruffled brown hair reaching down to her shoulders; she’s wearing her favorite (and overused) outfit: a long-sleeved and striped blue-and-purple turtleneck shirt, denim shorts and black boots, all in which are splattered in mud and dirt. Standing up, you try to clear the muck off of your little sister’s clothing, but to no avail. You sigh, accepting defeat. “It’s alright. Thanks for trying, though,” your 16-year-old sister smiles at you.

...

The cavern hosted fractured pillars that seemed to be there for centuries, lively green vines swirling around them. The light from above shone upon the golden flower bed where you lied. “Well, look what you’ve gotten us into, Frisk. We’re going to end up dying down here...” You crane your head to get a better view. “I don’t see any way up.“

“Cheer up, sis. There’s an exit over here!” Frisk jabs her thumb in the direction of an archway behind her.

“Wow, I uh… really missed that, didn’t I?” you chuckle.

“Yup! You sure did,” Frisk skipped towards the exit happily, ignoring the fact that you both jumped down a hole without a single scratch.

...Now that you think about it, only a total psychopath would do such a thing.

 

You trail behind Frisk through the archway into a small grotto, light shining down on a single golden flower—but this one seems different from the ones you were lying down on.

  
“Howdy!” the flower smiled up at you and Frisk. “I’m Flowey—Flowey the flower!” Its sing-songy voice echoed throughout the cavern.

...

  
_What the actual fuck?_ It has a face. A _flower_ with a _face_. The fact that it can talk makes it even  _worse_.  _How high is that on the weirdness scale?_

  
“What the hell?” you breathe out, the expression on your face a mixture of confusion and uneasiness. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see that your sister has a similar concern, her nose crinkled up in what appears to be disgust.

  
“You’re new to the Underground, aren’tcha? Golly, you must be so confused!” Flowey chuckles. “Someone oughta teach you two how things work around here—I guess little ol’ me will have to do…”

  
“Uh—”

  
“Ready? Here we go!” You feel faint tugging from your bosom. Looking down, you see a bright silver heart phasing through your chest. Frisk’s sports a bright crimson color, but it glows a little bit less than yours. For some reason, you have a really bad feeling about this. You feel highly exposed, like a very important and personal piece of you is on display.

  
“See that heart? That is your soul—the very culmination of your being,” Flowey smiled, but it seemed quite fake to you.

  
_Ooookay, then…_

  
“Your soul starts off weak, but it can grow strong if you gain a lot of LV.”

  
_Is he explaining video game terms?_

  
“What does LV stand for? Why, love, of course!” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing ever. “You want some love, don’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll share some with you!”

  
_Hell no._

  
He winks at you and your little sister, a star forming above his eye, dissipating soon after.

  
_What a creep._

  
“Um, no thank—“ you began, but the little weed interrupted you, completely ignoring anything and everything you had to say. “Down here, love is spread through little white friendliness pellets.”

  
_Nope. Not dealing with this trickery._ “Look, can we... just...” you trail off as the spinning ‘friendliness pellets' spawn around Flowey. “Are you ready? Get as many as you can!” The pellets begin floating towards both you and your sister.

  
“I don’t trust this weed.” You turn to your sister who is reaching out to the pellets. You try to grab her before she does, but it’s too late. As soon as the pellets come in contact with your skin, you let out a pained scream, your sister doing the same and your whole body shakes like a leaf. You both double over and you hold Frisk protectively, her soul nearly cracked in half, as is yours.

_Shit..._

“You _idiots!_ In this world, it’s kill or be killed! Why would _anyone_ pass up an opportunity like this?” Flowey’s face changes to an expression you would see in a cartoon—like a predator eyeing its prey, but much more atrocious.

  
'Friendliness pellets' circle both your and your sister’s soul. “Die,” Flowey hisses, the pellets closing in on the souls. “I’m… sorry,” Frisk murmured to you, breathing heavily. You let out a soft chuckle, your face completely drained of emotion.  _Hah… killed by a talking flower? What a great way to die._

  
Your vision starts to blur…

  
_Pathetic._

  
…

  
A beautiful orange flame lights up in the air behind Flowey and a tall humanoid goat comes into view, its crimson eyes burning with fury. Flowey whirls around, his evil expression transformed into fear. Before he could dodge the flame, the goat-like monster launches the ball of fire at him, burning him to a crisp. He lets out a high pitched yelp and doesn’t hesitate to disappear underground.

  
…

  
You and your sister look up at your rescuer, completely astonished. “ _Wow_ …” you say breathlessly.

 

Sighing, the goat monster clenches its fists, extinguishing the remaining flames. “What a terrible creature, torturing such poor, innocent youths,” she shakes her head, her calm and motherly voice filled with pity. She relaxes, padding over to you and Frisk, kneeling down beside you. “Here, let me help you…” She cups her paws over Frisk’s red soul, green wisps of magic swirling around it. She does the same with yours, all of the cracks fixed as if nothing happened. The souls phase back into your and your sister’s chest after a few moments.

  
“Thank you,” you stand up slowly along with your rescuer. “...What is your name?”

  
“My name is Toriel—caretaker of the Ruins,” she smiles down at you. “And you, my children?”

  
“(Y/N)…”

  
“Mine’s Frisk!” your sister giggles.

  
Now that you’ve recovered, you can see her clearly. Her long and fluffy ears droop onto her shoulders. She wears a purple gown, a strange and unique symbol weaved into it and it hangs all the way down to her padded feet—she must be at least 7 feet tall.

  
“I come here every day to see if a human has fallen down, but it seems that there isn’t one, but two!” she chuckles a bit.Frisk suddenly hugs her. “Thank you so so so so _so_ much for saving us!!” Toriel then wraps her arms around Frisk in response, bringing her into an embrace. “You are quite welcome, my child,” Toriel says quietly, pulling away from the hug.

“Come, I will guide you through the catacombs.”

  
•••••

 

It’s nearly been a month since you and Frisk fell down here. Ever since, Toriel has been taking care of you and Frisk as if both of you were her own children. You’ve never had anything like this on the surface, so what else could you ask for? Your adoptive parents undernourished you and your sister, so you often had to do chores yourself; you fed her, bought clothes for her, kept her warm, and so on.

  
The story of your biological parents is not a happy one, so let’s just say that they didn’t really like you. Now, though, you and Frisk have fallen down a hole in the middle of Mount Ebott’s forest, survived through it without a scratch, nearly killed by a talking flower, and found Toriel, the kindest person you’ve ever met by a landslide. The Froggits, Whimsuns, and the other monsters in the Ruins are nice, too, but nobody can even be close to matching Toriel’s level of kindness. She taught you a little bit about souls, including the real meaning of LV: Level of Violence. EXP stands for Execution Points, and both can be raised by committing… genocidal actions.

  
…

  
What really matters is what’s happening now.

It’s 6:13 in the morning and you’re lying down on the twin-sized bed Toriel had given you while Frisk is sleeping in the one on the opposite side of the room. Said room contains a dresser for clothes (which you split with Frisk), two nightstands (one for each bed), and a closet with old stuffed animals and board games (probably belonging to children who were previously in the house).

  
You take a deep breath as you pull the covers off of you, sliding your legs off the bed and standing up. You rub your eyes gently and walk over to the door silently, stealing a glance in your little sister’s direction to make sure that she’s still asleep before walking out of the bedroom into the homey living room. A sweet aroma of fresh pancakes wafts through the air, drawing you towards the kitchen. Toriel is reaching up into the cupboard, trying to pull plates out as quietly as possible. As she sets them down on the marble counter, you decide to speak up. “Good morning, mom.”

  
Toriel cranes her head to you while grabbing some kitchen utensils. “Good morning, my child. Did you sleep well?”

  
“Sure did. The bed is always so warm and comforting,” you reply. “How did you sleep?”

  
“I slept alright. I’m happier now that you and your sister are here,” she smiles, turning back to the stove, flipping the pancakes with a spatula. You step over to the space beside her, watching curiously as she continues cooking breakfast. “You should really give my sister and me some cooking lessons.” Toriel chuckles before setting the spatula down. “Perhaps,” the corners of her mouth falter a little bit as she closes her eyes.

  
“Not that you need to or anything, I’m just asking,” you say, shaking your head and waving your hands dismissively, even though she can’t see you. “It’s quite alright, my child. It’s just…” she trails off, her white-furred fingers rubbing her eyes, apparently lost in thought. You know her actions all too well—she’s nervous about something, and not sure if she should tell you.

 

Sighing, she makes up her mind, looking at you with tired eyes. “I’m afraid that you’ll leave me like the rest of the fallen children…”  _So she_ does _have children. Or she used to…_ “They come, they go, they die. And if you leave, _Asgore_ will kill you,” she says venomously, turning to the stove and setting the pancakes onto a large plate. “Wait... who’s Asgore?” you question, tilting your head.

 

”He is the king of the Underground.” The expression on her face told you not to pry, and you obey. ”One of his greatest warriors formed a patrol unit called the ‘Royal Guard.’ These monsters are all hunting humans for their souls. …And to obtain the human’s soul, they must kill the host,” she chuckles half-heartedly. “Human’s souls last longer after death than monster souls due to their excess determination.” Toriel grabs a glass dispenser of maple syrup from the fridge, sliding it next to the plate.

  
She sighs. “Regardless, I am thinking of letting you out of the Ruins for a little bit. I do admit, the Ruins are small once you get used to them. Besides, it would upset you to be trapped here.”

  
“So, child—no, (Y/N), if you do decide that you want to leave the Ruins, please be careful…”

...

  
“Anyways, I am deeply sorry that I rambled a little bit there. I just needed to get those thoughts off of my chest.”

  
You smile up at her, “Of course! I really enjoy listening to people’s thoughts, so it’s perfectly fine. And… yeah, the Ruins do feel small now that I think about it.”

  
“Gooooood morning!” Frisk howled from behind you. Whirling around, you laugh, “G’morning, Friskie!” Frisk stomped on the floor in front of you. “Stop calling me that! I am not cat food!”

  
“Hello, child. Did you sleep well?” Toriel grabs the plate of pancakes and the glass syrup dispenser, carrying them to the dinner table. “Yeah! Best bed _ever!_ ” she squealed happily, following Toriel and sitting down eagerly. “Good, good,” Toriel sets the stack of pancakes down in the center of the table along with the syrup, returning to the kitchen to grab smaller plates and the kitchen utensils.

  
You take a seat as she padded back to the table with said plates and utensils, setting them down in front of you and Frisk. You grab a fork and knife, sandwiching a few pancakes between them and onto your and Frisk’s plate. She instantly dives for the syrup, drenching her pancakes in it.

  
…

  
She practically inhales the pancakes.

  
“Pfft… Slow down there, child! You’ll get the hiccups!” Toriel covers her mouth to muffle her laughter.

 

Twenty seconds later: Frisk finishes the pancakes off with a satisfied sigh, leaning back in her chair. And Toriel was right—she did get the hiccups; you chuckle to yourself silently.

  
You finish your serving about seven minutes later, thanking Toriel. She then takes the dishes back into the kitchen, setting them down in the sink to rinse. You plop down on the couch next to your little sister (who has been complaining about boredom for nearly 10 minutes). Toriel pads over to her chair next to the fireplace, picking up her reading glasses and places them on her snout, grabbing her old book then opening it up to where she left off.

  
_Fire is really beautiful…_

After a minute or two of zoning out while staring at the everlasting fireplace, you look up at Toriel. “Hey, mom, you said that you would allow us into the rest of the Underground so long as we’ll be careful, right?”

  
“Huh?” Frisk tilts her head curiously. Toriel adjusts her glasses and places the bookmark in the book, closing it. “Yes… Would you like to?” the corners of her mouth falter slightly. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  
“I wanna come!” Frisk squeaked.

  
“When would you like to go?”

  
“Whenever. Maybe now, so long as it's alright with you.”

  
“Of course, my child,” Toriel smiles sadly, getting up from her chair. “You might want to bring a coat. It is very cold in Snowdin.”

  
“Oh, and you will need to look for a close friend of mine—his name is Sans. He will protect the both of you.”

  
“Got it. Do we need to pack anything?” you walk over to your room with Toriel and Frisk trailing behind you.

  
“Clothing, shoes, important belongings and other necessities, just in case,” Toriel replies, watching you gather a few pairs of clothes and belongings. “I will get you a couple of bags to carry those in,” she says, padding off to her room to search for a backpack.

 

...

  
“Clothes, check. Shoes, check. Brush, check. Toothbrush and toothpaste, check. Phone, check. Other stuff, check. Okay, I’m all ready,” you clapped your hands together a few times. “How about you, Frisk?”

  
“ _Mmhmm!_ ” she hums, chewing a slice of Toriel’s delicious butterscotch-and-cinnamon pie, giving you a thumbs-up.

 

…When did she grab that?

  
Your eyes travel to the pile of clothes and other necessities on her bed.

  
…When did she grab those?

  
Toriel returns to your room with two backpacks, placing one on each bed for you and Frisk. Yours sports a/n (f/c) color with a/n (pattern/style) design, while Frisk’s has green-and-yellow stripes. “Thanks, mom!” Frisk beamed. “Thank you, mom,” you smile at Toriel gratefully.

  
“Anytime, my children,” she sighs.

  
  
•••••

  
  
Toriel’s embrace is quite comforting.

  
…

  
Backpack, check.

  
Little sister, check.

  
Toriel’s hug, check.

  
…

  
You smile up at her, stepping back towards the exit, Frisk by your side. "Thank you... for everything." You turn around and heave the door open as you step into Snowdin’s eternal winter.

 

Toriel croaks, “Be good, alright?”

  
•••••

 

...

 

...

 

...

  
  
_Damn_ , is it cold here.

  
You mentally thank Toriel for the heads-up. (She reminded you to bring a coat—you don’t have one, but you have your hoodie, and even though it doesn’t do much, it still helps). Frisk, on the other hand, is hopping through the snow, completely immune to the freezing cold temperature.

  
_Wait,_ what _?_

_  
…Snow?_

_  
Underground?_

  
…

  
Yeah, this world sure is weird.

  
While trudging along the snowy path, you notice a long branch on the ground—and being the curious young lady you are, you try to break it with your foot, barely even leaving a mark. Sighing in defeat, you continue walking. Frisk is playing in the snow, throwing some up into the air. She was about to hurl another pile, but…

  
_Snap._

  
You quickly whirl around to see that the stiff branch cracked right in half, though you don’t see anyone or anything that could have done that. “What the hell?”

  
…

  
You cautiously continue trudging through the snowy path with Frisk by your side. “Are you _scared_?” she giggled.

  
“Uhh… no. Why?”

  
“You’re walking faster.”

  
“Am I? Heh… didn’t notice…”

  
“You’re a bad liar.”

  
“I know,” you admit, sighing. You start to calm down, but when you hear footsteps behind you…

  
_...Oh god._

  
The footsteps louden, signaling that whoever—or _whatever_ it is—is getting closer. Following close behind your strangely calm sister, you reach some type of gate (the bars seem way too wide to stop anyone).

  
…

  
The footsteps come to a stop directly behind you.

  
…

  
_Shit._ You freeze, terrified.

  
…

  
“Human... Don’t you know how to greet a new pal?” a deep voice rumbles. “Turn around and shake my hand.”

 

Shaking with fear, you obey. The shadowy figure stands about 4 inches taller than you and has a blue hoodie covering his head, so you can’t determine any distinct features.

  
You slowly raise your hand up to his, intertwining them.

  
_Pfffffffttt..._

  
Huh?

...

You look down to his hand, noticing a whoopee cushion. All of your previous fear is gone, replaced by complete shock.  _Oh my god_.

  
You bite your cheek in effort to contain your glee, and failing to do so, you burst out into laughter along with your sister.

...

  
You cease your laughs, seeing that the mysterious figure had put his hood down.

  
_Wow. He’s a skeleton. A_ living _skeleton._

  
…

  
You place a hand on your bosom.

  
_...Why does my chest feel so warm and fuzzy?_

  
…

  
His cheekbones dust a light blue as he chuckles. “Ah, the old whoopee-cushion-in-the-hand trick. It’s always funny.” The stout skeleton stuffs his hands back into his pockets. “Anyways, you’re a human, right? …Heh, of course you are,” he grins, his cheekbones puckering up as if they were a human’s.

  
_That’s amazing… He can change his expression!_

  
…

  
“I’m Sans—Sans the skeleton.”

  
Frisk points at him, fingertip practically touching his skeletal nose. “Found him.”

  
…

  
_He’s adorable._

  
…

  
  
…

  
  
…

  
_Wait, what?_


	2. Winter Punderland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah I'm so sorry it took me so long! School's been keeping me really busy. 
> 
> Thanks for being patient with me <3
> 
> ~kiarii

“You look _chilled to the bone,_  there, kid,” Sans winks at you. It takes you a few seconds to process the joke, but you burst out into laughter, releasing a puff of warm breath into the frigid air.

 

“Oh my _GOD!_ Stop it! That’s the 20th joke you’ve made since we were outside the Ruins, and that _wasn’t_ very long ago,” Frisk groans beside you.

 

Sighing, you and Sans decide to give your sister a few moments of respite. You shove your hands into your hoodie pockets, humming quietly to yourself as your favorite song begins to play in your head. You look down at your feet, the snow crunching rhythmically underneath them.

 

…

  
After a minute or so of silent trudging, Sans points down the path. “Oh, here comes my bro.”

 

You cease your humming and manage to tear your gaze from the ground, looking up to see a huge cloud of white approaching with loud, thundering stomps.

 

“What the hell?“ you mumble, eyes widening. Sans chuckles at your flabbergasted expression, his cheekbones sporting a light blue color.

 

A tall skeleton comes into view soon after, taking long leaps towards you. The white cloud dies down as he comes to a halt directly in front of Sans, towering over him. He wears oversized red gloves and boots, strange white armor around his ribcage with something akin to a speedo around his hip bones, his long red scarf (or is it a cape?) flowing behind him in the cold wind.

  
_Wow. He’s gotta be taller than Toriel—at least 8 ½ feet or something like that._

 

“Sup, bro?” Sans smirked.

 

“YOU KNOW WHAT ‘SUP,’ BROTHER!”

  
  
You flinch at the sudden rise in volume.

 

_…And loud. Very loud._

 

The height of this new skeleton begins to unease you, and you then find yourself staring at your shoes in discomfort. “IT’S BEEN _EIGHT_ DAYS AND YOU STILL. HAVEN’T. RECALIBRATED. YOUR. PUZZLES! ALL YOU DO IS JUST HANG AROUND OUTSIDE YOUR STATION AND BOONDOGGLE!” The taller skeleton stomps his foot in frustration. “WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING?! WHAT IF A HUMAN COMES THROUGH AND—“ He pauses and you feel a pair of eye(socket)s burning into your head.

 

…

 

“SANS, WHAT IS THAT?”

 

You look up from your shoes at the tall skeleton, biting your lip nervously.

 

Sans turns around, looking in your direction. “Uh… I think that’s a rock.”

 

…

 

_What?_

 

His permanent smile grows ever-so-slightly when your gaze locks onto a strange rock behind you.

 

_When did that get there?_

 

_…_

 

“ _OH_.”  
  
Sans returns to his stature position next to his brother. “Hey, what’s that in front of the rock?”

  
The taller skeleton gasps dramatically. “OH MY GOD!” He kneels down to Sans’ height, attempting to whisper into his metaphorical ear. “IS THAT… A _HUMAN?_ ”

 

“Sure is, bro.”

 

“OH MY GOD!! SANS, I FINALLY DID IT!” He rushes over to you, lifting you up as if you were a child and examining you from head to toe. You freeze like a deer in headlights, your gaze landing on Sans in attempt to communicate via silent interpretation.

 

_Please help._

 

_…_

 

“Hey, look, another human,” Sans points at Frisk, who has been giggling uncontrollably beside you.

 

The tall skeleton looked at you, then Frisk, and back again. “ _TWO_ HUMANS?” Sans’ brother yelped gleefully, setting you back down. You release a sigh as he shuffles towards Frisk, analyzing her in your stead.

 

He clears his throat (…) and steps back next to Sans. “HUMANS! YOU SHALL NOT PASS THIS AREA BECAUSE I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL STOP YOU. I WILL THEN CAPTURE YOU, AND YOU WILL BE SENT TO THE CAPITAL!” He grins proudly. “THEN! THEN… I’M NOT SURE WHAT’S NEXT.” Papyrus’ smile fades, furrowing his nonexistent brows, seemingly lost in thought.

 

“...IN ANY CASE, CONTINUE ONLY IF YOU DARE! NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!” He dashes back in the direction he came from, his red boots kicking up and covering you in freezing cold snow. You could hear a deep chuckle from Sans next to you. Wiping the frigid snow off of yourself, you snarl at him. “Sans! How Rudolph you! This is snow laughing matter!”

  
  
He chuckles, “Wow, you sure left me out in the cold. Really _sled_ me to the wrong conclusion at _frost_ glance. _Weather_ you like it or not, you’ll end up giving in to my _punderful_ jokes.”

 

A very piste Frisk squints at the both of you _._ “Seriously, can you guys st—“  
  
“Ha. _Icy_ what you did there, but take a chill pill. Sooner or later, you’re gonna be crying for _alp_ ‘cause you’re walkin’ on _thin ice_ ,” you retort, shivering.

 

Sans releases a booming laugh.

 

_He doesn’t know what he’s getting into._

 

“Well, with great _powder_ comes great responsibility. I’m gonna have to _slush_ your pride,” he smirks.

 

“I swear to _GOD,_ will you _PLEASE_ shut up!?” Frisk whines. “Sans, your brother is probably waiting for us!”  
  
…

 

_Oops._

 

In the middle of your pun fest, you completely forgot about Papyrus.

  
“Welp, guess we’d better get going then, huh? We’ll finish this later,” Sans glares at you, his white pinpricks carrying a sly sparkle.

_Oh, it’s on, bone boy._

 

• • • • • 

 

After multiple hours of fatigue and rage-inducing puzzle solving, you and Frisk have finally reached Snowdin, the Skele-bro’s hometown.

 

...

  
“Home sweet home,” Sans smirks sideways at you as he unlocks the door to his cabin. “Come on in. Paps said he’ll be here soon.” He holds the door open for you and your sister.

 

“My, you’re such a gentleman, Sans,” you mock him, stepping into the house.  
  
“I try.”  
  
Frisk followed behind you as you let out a satisfied sigh in response to the comforting warmth.

 

“Make yourself at home,” Sans closes the door, throwing his blue jacket onto the couch armrest. He then plops down on the green couch, leaning back with his skeletal arms behind his skull.

 

…

 

Papyrus suddenly storms in vigorously, “I HAVE RETUR—SANS, YOU LAZYBONES!”

 

“Sup?”

 

“‘SUP?!’ HAVE YOU EVEN GIVEN THE HUMANS A HOUSE TOUR?” He stares at Sans in disbelief, placing his gloved hands on his hips in annoyance.

  
“Yup—kitchen, living room, closet, bathroom, staircase, Paps’ room, my room,” he points to each room with ease, letting out a deep chuckle. “Done.”

  
  
“SANS… WHAT ABOUT YOUR SOCK? ARE YOU GOING TO PICK THAT UP ANY TIME SOON?”

  
  
“yes.”

  
  
Papyrus groans and facepalms, “THEN DO IT!”

  
“ok.”

  
  
“NOW.”

  
  
“ok.”

  
  
“SANS, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T PICK IT UP _NOW,_ I WILL BAN KETCHUP FOR A _MONTH!_ ”

  
  
“ok.” Sans gets up sluggishly while you and Frisk are trying not to let the laughter consume you.

 

…

 

You watch with interest as Sans slides over to the sock. He then picks it up… and puts it back down. “Done.”

 

…

 

That did it for you.

 

You and Frisk burst out into laughter, unable to contain it any longer.

  
A very offended Papyrus scowls, squinting his eyesockets at the three of you. “UGH. THIS IS THE _LAST_ TIME I’LL LET IT SLIP, BROTHER.”

 

“I WILL MAKE MY FAMOUS SPAGHETTI FOR THE HUMANS AS A WELCOME GIFT. SANS, DO NOT PLAGUE THEIR EARS WITH YOUR TERRIBLE PUNS.” With that, he stomps into the kitchen.

 

“He already has,” Frisk murmurs to herself.

 

…

 

“Oh my god, Sans. That was great,” you breathe out, wiping a stray tear of laughter from your eye. He chuckles and winks at you, sinking into the plush green couch. “Thanks. My brother has always been a numbskull, y’know.”

 

You giggle at Sans’ simple pun. Manifesting a soft blue blush, he rubs the back of his skull apprehensively as Frisk scoffs and rolls her eyes.

 

• • • • •

 

“DINNER IS READY!” Papyrus shouts from the kitchen, poking his skull out and wearing a “Kiss the ~~Cook~~! GREAT PAPYRUS” apron.

 

Sans stands up and slips over to the dinner table with you and Frisk following close behind. The three of you sit down at the table, plates and utensils at the ready. “BON APPETIT,” Papyrus scoops a serving of spaghetti onto each of the plates, topping it off with a little bit of sauce.

 

“Don’t you mean _bone_ appétit?” Sans smirks.

  
  
“YES, THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I SAID, SANS!” Papyrus replied, oblivious to the pun. Sans laughs light-heartedly and begins to take a bite of spaghetti...

 

…

  
“You have a _tongue?”_  you blurt, instantly regretting it. A slight rose hue drizzled itself onto your cheeks as you bite your lip in embarrassment. Sans chuckles and sticks his cerulean blue tongue out at you, a soft blue blush apparent on his cheekbones.

 

“SANS, NO—HUMAN, NOT YOU, TOO!” You repeat Sans’ actions, sticking your own tongue out at him. Papyrus let out a noise of displeasure, slamming his fists on the table. “I AM _DONE_ WITH YOUR CHILDISH ANTICS!”  
  
“Noooo, Paps, don’t _pasta_ - _way!_ ” Sans whines.

  
“OH. MY. GOD.”

 

“Uh oh,” Frisk mumbles to herself.

  
“If I had a _penne_ for every time my bro makes spaghetti, I’d be on a yacht.”

  
  
“NO, SANS—“

  
  
“Sans, _gnocchi-t_ off! _Anelli_ choked on my spaghetti!” you giggle.

 

Frisk proceeded to throw her plate in the air and scream, “FOR GOD’S SAKE, I’M _DONE!”_  
_  
_ “Aw, come on. I’m tryna _divella-p_ some self-confidence _fusilli_ reasons… Guess it’s _alforno_ -thing, then,” Sans sighs, feigning a frown.

 

…

 

The laughter dies down as you begin eating the spaghetti. It’s a little overcooked and soft, but overall it’s not too bad; it could use a little bit of seasoning, though.

 

“HOW IS IT, HUMAN?” the tall skeleton questioned, the previous banter long forgotten. “It’s wonderful, Papyrus!” you smile at him genuinely. “GOOD! I AM VERY HAPPY TO KNOW THAT YOU ARE ENJOYING MY WONDROUS COOKING,” he grins proudly.

 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Frisk whispering something into Papyrus’ nonexistent ear.

 

…

 

“ _OH_. HMM… YES, I COULD SEE THAT HAPPENING,” Papyrus stole a glance in your direction, a sly smile creeping its way onto his face.

  
You finish your meal after a few minutes and Papyrus eventually takes the empty plates, placing them into the kitchen... sink...

 

_Holy shit. That’s a huge sink._

 

Hopefully he never asks you to do the dishes _._

 

_Don’t jinx it._

 

…

  
You mentally shrug it off and stretch from your seat, resulting in a satisfied sigh from you as your muscles relax.

 

“HUMANS! SANS! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE AN IDEA!” Papyrus exclaims.

 

“Oh yeah? What is it?” Sans smirks sideways at you and Frisk.

 

“WE SHOULD WATCH ONE OF METTATON’S CLASSICS! HE JUST CAME OUT WITH EPISODE 142 OF ‘FORBIDDEN LOVE!’” the tall skeleton announces gleefully.

 

 _142? Who is Mettaton? And why such a clich_ _é_ _title?_

 

_…_

 

You have so many questions.

 

• • • • •

 

It's been _four_ _hours_ of watching the cheesy and extremely dramatic romance series Papyrus suggested. You're tired as hell, and the fact that each episode is _at least_ one hour long makes it worse. You crane your head to see that your little sister had fallen asleep on your lap; she’s always been a heavy sleeper.

 

You glance over at Papyrus, who is finally giving in to the exhaustion that has consumed Frisk.

 

“Heh. Guess I should get him to bed now, huh?” Sans chuckles beside you.

 

“Yeah,” you say softly. He presses the power button on the remote, turning the television off. He then gets up from the couch, sliding his skeletal arms underneath Papyrus’ sleeping form. Surprisingly, Sans lifts him with little to no effort, carrying him up the stairs into the first room on the left.

 

…

 

Your tired gaze lands on Frisk as she snores quietly, and you gently caress her head. Recalling happy memories with her, you smile and relax into the plush couch, soon finding your own way into a deep slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not claim Undertale or any of its characters as my own. Neither do I own you.
> 
> But maybe Sans does?
> 
> . . .
> 
> Anyways! I’d really appreciate criticism on how I can improve this story. Anything will do: grammar mistakes, punctuation, story suggestions, etc.
> 
> Thanks for reading all the way down to here! I love you all, please have a wondrous day—you deserve it! <3


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